Resplendent in boots, leather and latex, the dominatrix continues to influence trendsetters. Photo: Getty
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How the Nordic Model will close the door on the professional dominatrix

Under the Nordic Model – which criminalises the clients of sex workers – the role of the dominatrix, which is as classically British as that of a steam train conductor, will be greatly changed and diminished.

My partner and I often hike along forgotten railway lines. They evoke a golden age of transport, when branch lines brought mobility and modernity to Britain. As industrial heritage, the steam train is universal, attracting fans across Britain and the world. I never dreamed of being a dominatrix, as a child might imagine driving a steam train, but when I became one I learned a trade as intricate, and as British, as that of the steam engine driver. I’m writing today because the “Nordic Model”, which criminalises the clients of sex workers, has been reviewed favourably in Parliament. If supporters have their way, it could become law here in Britain. If it does, my beloved trade could become as extinct as one of those abandoned branch lines.

I decry the Nordic Model because it undermines sex worker safety and strengthens moralism in the name of preventing trafficking, even as it ensures that all sex work is driven deeper underground. To become a dominatrix is to enter a caring profession; to establish rapport with a client is delicate and difficult, especially when a session involves physical or psychological torment. If hiring us becomes illegal, how can a client entrust himself to our care? “[Kink] is already widely stigmatised in society, so clients have a greater need for privacy and discretion than more mainstream sexual orientations require. Clients already face the threat of losing their reputations, jobs and families if outed, and criminalisation just adds one more layer of risk,” says Ms Slide, an experienced London dominatrix (pictured below).

Today, British dominatrices fall into a grey area, sometimes overlooked by law enforcement but subject to archaic laws banning “disorderly houses.” Generally, we don’t offer sex, so we don’t yet know whether we would fall under the aegis of a Nordic-style law in Britain. We do know, though, that sex workers in Nordic Model countries suffer decreased income and increased risks; Laura Watson, spokeswoman of the stalwart English Collective of Prostitutes, says that workers report new complications, such as client reluctance to call from unblocked phone numbers or pay deposits. Worse, criminalisation will inevitably filter the client pool, discouraging those who are unwilling to break the law. “The focus of the police will be on criminalising the clients rather than on the safety of sex workers,” says Watson. “That’s already the case, and it’s a complete disaster; for example, the police have already said that they will sit outside the flats, waiting to catch clients; in Sweden for example they are using phone surveillance to catch clients, so they’re tapping sex workers phones,” she says.

With the waning of the dominatrix, much history could be lost. In her 2013 book, The History and Arts of the Dominatrix, author Anne O Nomis traced the origins of the modern dominatrix to specialist courtesans of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “At a time when few options were available to women other than hard manual labour or marrying up, these women stand out as savvy erotic entrepreneurs. . . They crafted their own self-image, developing equipment and practices which are as specialist as any craft profession,” says Nomis. As some of the top courtesans of their times, the lady flagellants, strict schoolmistresses and governesses of these eras counted members of the elite among their clients and admirers. This tradition has persisted, and even George Osborne has counted a dominatrix as a personal friend. Designer John Sutcliffe’s Atomage epitomised our distinctive style; resplendent in high boots, leather and latex, we continue to influence trendsetters, from Gaultier to Gaga. In our dungeons and boudoirs, we have also broken ground for sexual minorities. Kink has long been practiced without money changing hands, but moralism and patriarchy have historically narrowed the kink scene to sex workers and clients, and to those who would meet via underground contact publications. In this restrictive environment, dominatrices were an important conduit for the development and teaching of safe and effective kink, and our premises were often the only place where a novice could explore a long-held fantasy.

Kink’s popularity, fuelled by fiction and the internet, doesn’t preclude our ongoing success. Today, some of us are active members of our local public kink scenes, and we often share our knowledge and premises with our communities. Learning new skills is easier than ever before; today, anyone can take a class in rope or role-play. I think, though, that the distinctive aesthetic and performance of the dominatrix might be difficult to replace. Perhaps, enthusiasts could evoke us, as a re-enactor might evoke ancient martial skills, or as a steam train might carry tourists, instead of coal and commuters. But a railway preservation society does not a branch line make. If we bin the Nordic Model, and pass laws that strengthen the safety and freedom of all sex workers, the British dominatrix need not be preserved in aspic; instead, we shall thrive.

Margaret Corvid is a writer, activist and professional dominatrix living in the south west.

Davide Restivo at Wikimedia Commons
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Scientists have finally said it: alcohol causes cancer

Enough of "linked" and "attributable": a new paper concludes that alcohol directly causes seven types of cancer.

I don't blame you if you switch off completely at the words "causes cancer". If you pay attention to certain publications, everything from sunbeds, to fish, to not getting enough sun, can all cause cancer. But this time, it's worth listening.

The journal Addiction has published a paper that makes a simple, yet startling, claim: 

"Evidence can support the judgement that alcohol causes cancer of the oropharynx [part of the throat], larynx, oesophagus, liver, colon, rectum and [female] breast"

So what's especially significant about this? 

First, scientists, unlike journalists, are very wary of the word "causes". It's hard to ever prove that one action directly led to another, rather than that both happened to occur within the same scenario. And yet Jennie Connor, author of the paper and professor in the Preventive and Social Medicine department at the University of Otago, New Zealand, has taken the leap.

Second, alcohol not only causes cancer of one kind – the evidence supports the claim that it causes cancer at seven different sites in our bodies. There was weaker evidence that it may also cause skin, prostate and pancreatic cancer, while the link between mouth cancers and alcohol consumption was the strongest. 

What did we know about alcohol and cancer before?

Many, many studies have "linked" cancer to alcohol, or argued that some cases may be "attributable" to alcohol consumption. 

This paper loooks back over a decade's worth of research into alcohol and cancer, and Connor concludes that all this evidence, taken together, proves that alcohol "increases the incidence of [cancer] in the population".

However, as Connor notes in her paper, "alcohol’s causal role is perceived to be more complex than tobacco's", partly because we still don't know exactly how alcohol causes cancer at these sites. Yet she argues that the evidence alone is enough to prove the cause, even if we don't know exactly how the "biologial mechanisms" work. 

Does this mean that drinking = cancer, then?

No. A causal link doesn't mean one thing always leads to the other. Also, cancer in these seven sites was shown to have what's called a "dose-response" relationship, which means the more you drink, the more you increase your chances of cancer.

On the bright side, scientists have also found that if you stop drinking altogether, you can reduce your chances back down again.

Are moderate drinkers off the hook?

Nope. Rather devastatingly, Connor notes that moderate drinkers bear a "considerable" portion of the cancer risk, and that targeting only heavy drinkers with alcohol risk reduction campaigns would have "limited" impact. 

What does this mean for public health? 

This is the tricky bit. In the paper, Connor points out that, given what we know about lung cancer and tobacco, the general advice is simply not to smoke. Now, a strong link proven over years of research may suggest the same about drinking, an activity society views as a bit risky but generally harmless.

Yet in 2012, it's estimated that alcohol-attributable cancers killed half a million people, which made up 5.8 per cent of cancer deaths worldwide. As we better understand the links between the two, it's possible that this proportion may turn out to be a lot higher. 

As she was doing the research, Connor commented:

"We've grown up with thinking cancer is very mysterious, we don't know what causes it and it's frightening, so to think that something as ordinary as drinking is associated with cancer I think is quite difficult."

What do we do now?

Drink less. The one semi-silver lining in the study is that the quantity of alcohol you consume has a real bearing on your risk of developing these cancers. 

On a wider scale, it looks like we need to recalibrate society's perspective on drinking. Drug campaigners have long pointed out that alcohol, while legal, is one of the most toxic and harmful drugs available  an argument that this study will bolster.

In January, England's chief medical officer Sally Davies introduced some of the strictest guidelines on alcohol consumption in the world, and later shocked a parliamentary hearing by saying that drinking could cause breast cancer.

"I would like people to take their choice knowing the issues," she told the hearing, "And do as I do when I reach for my glass of wine and think... do I want to raise my risk of breast cancer?"

Now, it's beginning to look like she was ahead of the curve. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.